Pacific Northwest
by acro acro
Summary: She'd begged the twins to let her go with Fred to open the new branch of WWW. Hermione needed to get away from Ron, and Fred needed to get away from that blasted wall. All in all, it had been a win-win situation for them both, familiarity and escape, the comfort of a friend and a whole new world to explore.
1. Chapter 1 Captain Underpants

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – outside the plot. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.**

**Chapter One: Captain Underpants**

Fred's nose awoke before the rest of his body, tingling with the pleasure of the sea air combined with the scent of the lavender field behind the Larsen House at the end of the road. The morning air pouring in through the open window above his headboard was cool and light and clean. He moaned in half-awake pleasure, then rolled over onto his stomach and opened his eyes to see the glory of this Spring morning. Shuffling his pillow underneath him, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch the distant evergreens waving in the morning breeze. God's above, it was like Heaven here. In the few months since he and Hermione had arrived to open the Pacific Northwest branch of WWW, there had not been a single morning that he had not woken up in pure joy at the sight before him. Fred rolled over again onto his back.

"'Mione!" He waited a beat, then yelled again.

"Hermione!"

"What?" A voice came from down the hall. Kitchen maybe? Fred thought he could smell coffee over the pervasive lavender and ocean salt.

"Come here!" He shouted. Fred grinned. He loved pulling that girl's wand. She hated to be ordered around.

"What for? You want coffee? I just made some," her voice floated down the hallway.

"Yeh that's fine, but come in here!"

"Frederick Weasley, what do you WANT?" he heard her huff as she stomped down the hall towards his room.

"Just come in here you lazy girl!" he ordered. Hermione poked her head into his room just as he was sitting up to fluff his pillows. She was balancing a book under one arm and had a mug in each hand. Her hair was in utterly hilarious pigtails, and she was wearing an oversized set of Western Washington University flannel pajamas that Fred had gotten her for Valentine's Day. Her Valentine's gift to him had been a pair of hip waders. They had mutually agreed that they'd bought each other the un-sexiest Valentine's gifts ever, but that was perfect, really. Friends don't really buy each other Valentine's gifts, but since they were essentially all each other had out here, living so far away from their families in England, they'd decided to make a big deal of every holiday. Fred had charmed them both magnificent fake beards for President's Day, which ended up being a big seller in the shop.

Hermione shuffled into the room and dropped her book on the end of Fred's bed, then leaned over to hand him a mug, which he accepted as he patted the bed beside him.

"Thanks, Love, now get in here and join me for a mo'," he commanded. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat her coffee mug on his bedside table, then clambered onto his bed, leaning against the pillows. Fred leaned across her and set his mug next to hers, then dragged her down to lay next to him, shushing her protests with his hand over her mouth.

"Just lie down. Listen, smell, feel," he said, laying back into the pillows himself.

"Listen to what?" Hermione asked as soon as he took his hand off her face.

He shrugged his shoulders and grinned cheekily at her. "Everything. Nothing. Just lay back and bask," he said airily.

Hermione huffed, then shifted around to get more comfortable. Then she sniffed. "Mmmm, the lavender fields smell divine," she said.

"Yes."

"I can smell the ocean, and I hear the Ferry coming in," she said.

"Yes."

"It's Sunday, I hear church bells."

"Mmmhmm."

"The roses are blooming."

"Hermione."

"Yes Fred?"

"Shut up please."

"Git."

Silence settled over them. Hermione breathed deeply, in and out, settling deeper into the pillow as she enjoyed the atmosphere around her. She could smell the sleepy man next to her, she could hear him breathing, and she could hear the various early morning noises of the town around them. She smelled their coffee, she smelled the scent of her shampoo in her hair, she felt the morning sun bathing her face. The tantalizing aroma of roses, cedar, lavender and sea air coming through the window was so heady she almost couldn't believe it was real. She smiled.

"I love it here," she said softly.

Fred turned on his side to look at the woman next to him. "Got it in one," he said back to her. Then he smiled and lay back on his pillow, extending his arm to tuck her in closer to him. Hermione shuffled around and snuggled closer to her friend, burrowing her head into the crook of his arm.

"When are you heading out?" She asked quietly.

"Not until this evening. There's no point in leaving earlier, the day's already more than half over back home," Fred replied.

"Didn't your Mum want you for Easter supper?" Hermione queried.

"Oh, yeh I guess. But I couldn't resist spending my one day of the week off with my favorite book-keeper. Unless you've changed your mind about coming?" Fred tickled her ribs with his free hand, then reached over her to grab his coffee cup again. He sat up and sipped the dark brew. Mmm, the coffee out here alone was a good reason to stay in Washington the rest of his life.

"I really shouldn't. It would be awkward with Ronald, and who'd mind the shop? You know Sunny can't manage it on her own for a day, forget two weeks. We'd come back to a burnt out husk."

Hermione's excuses to not come back to England when Fred went to visit his family and meet with George about shop business were the same every time, but they were honest excuses. Fred's younger brother was still being a bastard after Hermione's rejection last Christmas, and Sunflower, Fred and Hermione's part-time assistant, was cheerful and trusting to the point of not being trust-worthy. She could be counted on to short the register and give away products to hard-luck stories, but the customers adored her, and she had an amazing touch with the pygmy puffs. They grew and reproduced like mad under her care, and she'd even developed long-haired, pastel-colored hybrids that they were marketing for Easter.

"When a Bunny's Not Enough, Give Your Love a Pastel Puff!

New Colors and Sizes Available Just in Time for Easter!"

This poster had been hanging in the front window over the display of Pastel Puffs for the past two weeks, and it had been their best seller since Fred and Hermione had opened the West Coast Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes just after the beginning of the New Year in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island off the coast of Washington state.

The close proximity to Alaska and Canada, along with the easy trade routes to the Asian countries, provided for the existence of a large and bustling melting pot of a Wizarding Community. Because the many islands and different countries with their different cultures were so close together, most people and goods arrived by skipping, a form of apparition that involved quick bounces from spot to spot which enabled a wizard in, say, Northern China, to arrive in Friday Harbor by quickly popping from town to town and island to island. International Floo and Portkey travel could get expensive and had to be applied for in advance, but skipping? That was free and private, and so Friday Harbor had become a Wizarding Community unlike any other. There was world class shopping, dining, and entertainment to be sure, but the thing that brought witches and wizards from all over the world was the _variety. _ From buckwheat noodles to butterbeer, from kimonos to quills, Friday Harbor was the Wonderland of the Wizarding World.

The ridiculously easy access to previously unknown and unobtainable foreign herbs and potions had been the deciding factor for Fred and George to open a branch so far from their original store in London, but the plan had really formed because Fred had been desperate to get away from England and Europe entirely after the War. His near-death encounter with the collapsing wall at the Battle of Hogwarts Castle had affected a dramatic change on his outlook in life. After several months of physical and psychological recuperation, Fred still hadn't returned to his previous, carefree and charismatic self. He wasn't content with staying put in a familiar place, life was too short to be merely content – right? George had hated seeing his brother so unhappy when they were so close to living their dream, so the twins had put off expanding to a safe, known area like Hogsmeade in favor of this far-flung location.

When Ron's awkward, unexpected, and completely unwanted marriage proposal to Hermione had ruined the Weasley family Christmas, Hermione found herself at a cross-roads in her life. Her parents were gone, rooted out and murdered half a world away in Sydney, she didn't want to enter Auror training along with Harry and Ron, and she hadn't been interested in the idea of returning to Hogwarts to finish her education after her year off.

Two days after Christmas, Hermione had shown up at the front of the WWW shop at 93 Diagon Alley twenty minutes before the store was set to open, with three coffees and scones from the café on the corner. Then, she'd begged the twins to let her go to Washington with Fred, who'd planned to leave London and open the Friday Harbor store in just a couple of days. With her vast personal library and knowledge of exotic plants and animals, Hermione did have a valuable skill to offer the twins for research and development of new products. Fred also saw the benefit of her Muggle heritage, as he'd be spending more time than ever in his life in the Muggle world gathering materials for new inventions.

All in all, it had been a win-win situation for them both, familiarity and escape, the comfort of a friend and a whole new world to explore.

"Well, Love, you have a point there. Not much point in returning to a burnt out husk. But you know, everyone misses you. Georgie told me just the other day that Ron's started some kind of psychological training with the Auror Department, and he's been flagged to spend extra time with their Mind Healers," Fred said.

"Oh, really? Harry mentioned the psychological training to me in his last letter, but I didn't know that Ronald was having problems with them. Did George or anyone say what Ronald and the Mind Healers are working on?" Hermione couldn't help but be worried about her old friend, but she was more than a little relieved to hear this news. She'd figured out months ago that Ronald must be suffering from some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but she had made absolutely no headway trying to speak with him about his problems after the War. He'd just gotten more uncomfortable to be around, more possessive, and more delusional about their supposed relationship.

She was just grateful that he hadn't followed her to Washington when she'd come out here with Fred. In fact, Ron hadn't tried to contact her in any way. This meant two things for Hermione. Number one, she did miss her friend, and was saddened by their months of non-communication. Number two, however, was that that her absence from his daily life seemed to be beneficial to his recovery. He hadn't REALLY been madly in love with her, because if he had, he wouldn't have given up his mad pursuit of her just because she'd moved away. And thank Godric he didn't. That would have been awkward on so many levels.

When Fred affirmed that The Mind Healers and Ronald were discussing his participation in the War, and it's long-term effects on him, Hermione sat up quickly, looking at her friend with a tremendous smile. "I was right! I told Harry it was PTSD! I tried to explain it to Ronald, but he never listened to me!" Hermione smacked Fred on the chest for emphasis as she crowed in triumph.

"Hey! No hitting the messenger!" Fred grabbed her hands and pushed her away from him. Hermione grinned and hopped off the bed, grabbing her coffee mug and book to exit the room as Fred took another happy sip of his coffee.

"Happy Easter Fred!" She sang as she ran to the bathroom and locked the door.

"Happy Easter 'Mio-" With a loud POP, large white bunny ears appeared on top of Fred's head. Fred leapt out of the bed to look in the mirror over his bureau.

"Hermione!" Fred shouted. His new ears wiggled charmingly. Oh, this meant WAR. Fred hadn't given Hermione his Easter gift yet, a rare deep orange climbing rose bush that matched his amazing hair color perfectly, if he did say so himself, but that gift didn't nearly match the level of awesomeness that Hermione's did. Fred scratched his chin thoughtfully for a second as he appraised his new ears.

Well, if she wanted some bunny, she'd get some bunny. Fred grabbed his wand and snuck into her bedroom.

By the time Hermione poked her head out of the bathroom door to make sure the coast was clear, Fred was already in the kitchen frying bacon and slicing a cantaloupe. Hermione darted into her bedroom to get dressed for the day. She couldn't wait to see his new ears, but she wasn't looking forward to the retaliation when he realized they wouldn't be disappearing until after Midnight and Easter was officially over. He'd have to go to England with those bad boys on his head.

Hermione was still snickering as she opened her bureau drawer to extract some knickers. As soon as she drew them up her legs and over her bum, she heard a loud POP. Looking behind herself in horror, she saw a large, fluffy white bunny tail stuck to the back of her knickers.

Hermione sighed. Fred. Naturally it would be something to do with her underwear. It was obvious the man hadn't spent much time living with a woman, as he was delighted by her bras and knickers mixed up with his clothing in the wash. The first time she'd come into her bedroom to find all of her freshly laundered bra's hanging from the ceiling like fly-paper, she'd laughed. The fifth time, she'd found them hanging from the ceiling in the stairwell leading down to the shop from their flat, she'd been less amused, and had forbidden him to play with her underwear anymore. The next morning had been Chinese New Year, and she'd come out of her shower to find that every last bra and pair of knickers had been charmed either WWW Magenta or WWW Orange. Her knickers now even had the WWW logo embroidered across the back.

Lovely. Classy, really.

Of course she'd gotten Fred pretty good that Holiday. He'd opened his sock drawer to find a tiny Chimera tearing his socks to pieces and setting the whole drawer on fire. Then, as he'd ran down the hallway to holler at Hermione in the Kitchen, new pairs of socks had started pelting him from all angles.

Striped, polka-dotted, argyle, lighting bolts, snitches, even a pair with prancing unicorns, more than twenty sets of WWW Magenta and WWW Orange socks had attacked and beaten him to the hall floor.

It had been a great Holiday, really. But it had also set a standard for pranking and gift-giving that they had yet to give up on, nearly two months later. Living in a culturally diverse community like Fred and Hermione did, there was at least one Holiday every week, sometimes more.

Hermione pulled the bunny-tailed knickers off and tried on another pair. POP. Tail. She tried on another. POP. Tail.

POP. POP. POP.

Hermione sighed. She pulled on her most conservative pair of boy-short knickers and stalked into the kitchen, where Fred was innocently leaning against the counter drinking coffee and looking out the window.

"Ahem!" Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

Fred turned around, and appreciatively widened his eyes and wolf-whistled at Hermione, standing in front of him in her t-shirt and underpants. Then he burst out laughing as she spun around to show him her tail, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"You know, Hermione, there's employment for girls like you that enjoy walking around in knickers and a fluffy bunny tail." Fred wiped his eyes as he tried to contain his amusement.

"Very funny, Weasley. But you know, it's hard to take you seriously when your ears are twitching so adorably," Hermione retorted.

"Ah, you like them? I rather do too, you know. So what do you say you and I go for a stroll through town this morning? Show off our new look? It would be good advertising, you know." Fred's grin was a challenge. He was daring Hermione to find some way to rid herself of the tail, or go out in public and risk hearing more _Playwizard_ jokes.

Then she started thinking. The charm didn't seem to be on her bum, just on her knickers. The tail was far too large and poofy to hide under pants, robes or a dress. Her bottom would have a huge bump, and there was absolutely no way she was walking around in public with a hole in her clothing to permit the tail access to the outside world. Well she couldn't go without knickers, that was out of the question and obviously the solution that Fred assumed she'd go for. Hmm….

"Sure, Fred. Just let me find something appropriate to wear." Hermione smiled back at her friend, answering his challenge. He'd see who was laughing when she found the loophole in his prank.

As Fred set the bacon and fruit on their plates, Hermione went back to her room. Then she quietly snuck into Fred's room and opened his dresser to grab a pair of his boxer briefs. She dashed back to her room and locked the door, then tossed off her fluffy pants in favor of Fred's. She tapped the Gryffindor Red cotton boxer briefs to resize them to her body, then checked her bum.

No tail. Ha-Ha! Victory was hers, and it only took her a few moments. Hermione dressed in a faded pair of denims that hugged her curves just enough to show that there was no bunny tail present, and headed out to the kitchen with a smile.

Fred's own smile widened, then faded over the next hour as he covertly tried spell after spell to disarm or remove whatever spell Hermione must have used to hide her tail. There was no way she was actually walking around town with him sans knickers… Was she?

No, Little Stuffy Pants Granger would never… It had to be a glamour or something he hadn't tried yet.

For the rest of the afternoon, through the Easter music festival and the flower market, through the Chinese cold noodle lunch and walk to the beach to find new seashells to transfigure for the shop, Fred puzzled and stewed about Hermione's derriere. He was too proud to admit she'd somehow foiled his prank, but he just couldn't figure out the loophole she must have found.

Meanwhile, Fred's bunny ears twitched and wiggled charmingly at passers-by, and Hermione just smiled.

/…./

"All right, so this packet contains the copy of the ledger with all of our receipts to take to Gringotts, and this one has George's audited copy of the London shop's year-end sales as well as the one the two of you need to sign together and submit to the Ministry. Here's your sketch pad with the new prototypes we've been working on, and here's a copy of my notes." Hermione was busy stacking folders and envelopes into Fred's arms, and didn't notice the frustration rising on his face.

"This bag has the dried samples of fire lichens we collected last week from Mt. Saint Helens, and also the packet of mushrooms and fungi that just came in from Hong Kong. And this last bag has the seashells you and George wanted to work on. Try not to shatter them all before you get to London, eh?" Hermione finally looked up at her friend and smiled innocently. She knew he was still stewing over the tail charm, and figured she'd let him in on the secret.

But only if he asked. Nicely.

"Mr. Weasley, is something wrong?" Hermione asked sweetly.

Fred huffed, and his ears drooped sadly. "All right, all right. You win this round Hermione. I'd like to point out that this is the first time you have ever beaten me. So come on now, tell me the truth. Did you just walk around town all day commando, or did you find a way to break the charm? Because I've checked and checked, and you don't have a tail. It's not concealed, it's just not there!" Fred's pouting was really funny.

"You know, Fred, it was really quite simple. And while I really enjoyed you checking out my bum all day long, I am quite disappointed you didn't figure out the easy and obvious answer yourself." Hermione pushed him backwards away from her, knowing his Portkey was about to go off, and not wanting to be accidently tugged off to London.

Fred raised one eyebrow, waiting to hear her solution to what he thought had been a clever and rather risqué prank.

"You see, Freddie, I'm wearing your underwear." At this Hermione lifted the hem of her t-shirt to show him the expanse of her belly, which sure enough was encircled by a pair of his boxer-briefs. Fred's mouth dropped open as Hermione laughed. Then his Portkey activated and he was swept away, leaving Hermione to bask in the glow of Fred's utter astonishment.

To Be Continued.


	2. Chapter 2 What Do You Want?

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – outside the plot. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human. **

**Chapter Two: What Do You Want?**

George heard the distinctive thump and cursing that could only mean that his twin had arrived, and picked his head up off his pillow to glare at his bedside clock. It was four in the morning. Groaning, he pulled himself out of his warm bed and poked his head out the door. In the flat's living area, his twin was pacing back and forth, whispering curses and generally making entirely too much noise to ignore. Fred was agitated, to be sure. George noticed something different about his brother. Something… _earie…_

George's laughter exploded down the hallway, and Fred's head whipped around at the sound.

"Gred?"

"Forge?"

"Gred!"

"Forge!"

George pulled his brother into a hug, then stepped back to study his twin. "I must say, you seem rather _ear-ritated_, brother mine. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Fred reached up and stroked the twitching white ears, which still hadn't left his head yet. He was starting to wonder just how long Hermione's Easter prank was going to last.

Hermione.

Fred knew it would be a long, long time before he'd be able to erase the mental image of her smooth exposed belly framed by the waistband of his boxer-briefs. He'd spent the entire day watching her bum, and had not failed to notice the absolute perfect heart-shape of it. He'd spent the entire afternoon thinking about Hermione sans pants, and then she went and put her sweet little arse in his underwear.

Helga on a hippogriff, he was in trouble.

"My knickers? Did you talk to Hermione or something?" Fred felt himself flush a deep pink, and hoped desperately his twin wouldn't notice – but of course George noticed. He cocked his head to the side and examined his brother's blushing face.

"What is this? My _ear-repressibly_ _ear-resitable_ twin is blushing like ickle Ronnie at his first school dance as he mentions Hermione and knickers in the same sentence?" George laughed as Fred covered his face with his hands and groaned.

"Go on and have a seat there, and tell me what's been going on with you two while I go make some tea. Go on, Freddie, I want to _'ear_ everything!" George said as Fred groaned again.

"George, enough with the ear jokes," Fred begged, ears and hands bent towards his brother in supplication.

"Are you kidding? Don't you remember how long it took me to memorize that section of the dictionary? It would be _ear-responsible_ of me to stop now!" George cried as he brought two mugs back to the couch and sat down next to his distraught brother. Fred accepted a mug as George leaned over him to inspect the ears.

"These really are brilliant. Do you move them or are they independent?"

"A little bit of both, I think. I was thinking maybe we could do a whole line of them, really. Elf ears, donkey ears, elephant ears. Bit of a lark, but they would be cheap to make and they don't really have to be holiday dependent," Fred said as his brother nodded.

"She really is bloody brilliant, isn't she?" George said, then watched closely as his twin's cheeks pinked again.

"Oh, she asked me to give these to you," Fred muttered as he drew a small bag out of his pocket. George accepted it, and found half a dozen pairs of WWW colored socks just like she'd made for Fred. George had been wildly jealous of Fred's unicorn socks when they'd last seen each other, and now he sorted through six pairs of magenta and orange socks of his own.

"I see crabs, hippogriffs, two kinds of plain stripes, polka-dots, and some kind of giant fish?" George looked at the last pair. It was a pattern of bent swimming fish, maybe giant porpoises?

"Those are orcas. Killer whales, you know? They're all around the island." Fred said absently.

"Godric, that girl's amazing. Freddie m'boy, if you don't snap her up I will," George quipped as he patted his brother on the shoulder. Then he waited the whole five heartbeats it took Fred to finally spill what was really on his mind.

"She's wearing my underwear!" Fred sputtered, then he told his brother the details of the day, along with his confession of intense lust for one Ms. Granger.

Several hours later, as the brothers were finishing a late breakfast and signing some final documents before they needed to head to Gringott's, Fred's Easter ears finally disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived.

"Oh thank Merlin! I wasn't really looking forward to meeting with the Goblins like that," Fred cried in relief.

"True, that would have been highly _ear-regular_ and _ear-rational_ –" George's whimsy was cut off by his brother as Fred threw a couch pillow at his face.

/…../

Flipping the sign from Open to Closed, Hermione bid Sunflower goodbye and locked the front door for the evening. Fred had been gone for four days now, and Hermione couldn't believe how much she missed him. Before, when he'd left for his visits back to England, she'd used the time to catch up on her reading, to double-check their accounts, and to inventory the shop and their lab. But this time, she couldn't seem to settle down to anything. She couldn't get the look on his face out of her mind when she'd revealed that she'd found a loophole in his Easter prank. He'd been so shocked! She'd spent that entire day more than mildly titillated that Fred was staring at her bottom, and seeing that shock on his face after a day of being so highly aware of him had rocked her senses. Late that night, she'd taken a very hot, very, erm, pleasurable shower.

That had NOT helped.

Hermione had been having crazy sex dreams every night since Fred had been gone.

When Fred was home – and Hermione felt kind odd still saying that in her head, like they were LIVING TOGETHER, even though they did live together – they were always on the go. Every evening was spent scouring the different restaurants and markets in the Wizarding and Muggle sections of Friday Harbor, and every Sunday was spent touring the islands around them. They'd made quick trips to the different volcanoes that dotted the countryside on the mainland, and spent afternoons hiking in the many national parks looking for new and exotic material they could use for the shop.

And now, all Hermione could think of in her abundant free-time were her crazy dreams. She'd tried to rationalize with herself, to make sense and reason of her sudden hormone surge. It was perfectly natural, of course. Fred was a good looking bloke, and he was tremendous fun to be around. They'd gotten to know each other very well in the past three months, and Hermione found that the little whimsical idiosyncrasies that one inevitably discovers about one's roommate only endeared Fred to her more, not less. For example, Fred always slept with his window open, even on the nights that it rained or was unbelievably cold. Even though Hermione invariably woke in the morning to a freezing cold flat, she never begrudged him the fresh air. She was a witch, after all, and fixing the temperature in her bedroom or their bathroom was no big effort.

And then, Hermione got the biggest kick out of Fred's food habits. Fred adored orange food. Cantaloupes, oranges, yams, carrot cake, pumpkin juice: if it was orange, it was going in Fred Weasley's mouth on a regular basis. Hermione and Fred spent hours scouring the exotic food markets in search of new orange colored foods to sample and bring home. On Monday, Hermione's first day without Fred, she'd found a coffee vendor that had bright orange pumpkin flavor that she immediately bought for his coffee. She hadn't even thought about it twice, she'd just handed over the sickles and congratulated herself on discovering such a brilliant find for her friend.

So, it was really perfectly natural for her to miss him, as well as to find herself attracted to him. He was familiar, having known her since she was just a little bushy-haired eleven year old know-it-all. And Fred was trust-worthy, sweet and kind, but without being soft and weak. He was definitely a – what did Ginny call it? A man's man. Fred could chop firewood and fix roof leaks and protect their home and property like no other man, and Hermione found that incredibly… well, sexy. Sweet Circe, how could she not? The first time she'd seen him splitting logs into kindling on one of the Muggle beaches at a bonfire they'd gone to with Sunny and her husband, Hermione had almost caught herself drooling.

And Sunny had caught her watching Fred. Hermione had blushed, but Sunny had drawn her fingers across her lips in a zippering motion, indicating that her lips were sealed. Hermione had just rolled her eyes then, honestly she was just physically admiring a man, not crushing on her friend and roommate.

And now? Well now, Hermione was in a bit of a pickle.

She climbed up the steps to their flat, and finally settled on having a movie night. She pulled on her oversized purple WWU pajamas that Fred had given her and grabbed the bowl of popcorn she'd made for her solo dinner, and started flipping through her movie selection. Something girly and romantic? Er, no. Her mind was already mush as it was, best not make it worse. Documentary, drama, horror, nothing stood out. What she needed was some action – not THAT kind of action, but a blow-em-up adventure movie. Hermione and Fred couldn't abide Muggle war movies though, and had settled their action movie collection firmly in the realm of Sci-Fi for their entertainment. It was easy to keep up with the non-reality that way, since real goblins and wizards and dragons looked nothing like the one's portrayed by Hollywood.

"That Gandalf's all right, but he's no Dumbledore," Fred had said on more than one occasion.

"True, but Dumbledore never had to battle a giant bloody immortal eyeball. Maybe Dumbledore would have had a hard time in that situation," Hermione had defended Gandalf's honor.

"Nonsense, Mione, if it had been Dumbledore, he'd have just launched Treebeard into Sauron and the War would have ended. Poked out by an Ent. No shame in that," Fred had countered, which had set Hermione to giggling so much she'd fallen off the couch.

Deciding on a _Hellboy _marathon, she popped in the first DVD and settled herself into the big lonely couch with her popcorn and their weekly packet of mail from back home. By the time she was into the second film she'd already sorted through the bills, read Harry's weekly letter – Ron would be spending some overnight's at St. Mungo's doing some extra study with the Mind Healers – and had finished snorting over some new legislation concerning mer-people that had been written up in the _Daily Prophet._ She was flipping through the pages of the latest _Quibbler_ just as Liz was showing Manning the Schufftein glasses and explaining how they would reveal to the wearer "the true nature of things". This set off a chain of thoughts in Hermione's head, from the steam-punk goggles on the TV screen to the memory of Luna in her free Spectraspecs looking for wrackspurts on the Hogwarts express, to the set of Omnioculars balanced on a bookshelf across the room…

Hermione jumped up. Where was her notepad? She ran downstairs to the shop and looked under the counter where she and Fred generally kept a large sketchpad for drawing during slow times. She grabbed her bag of colored pencils and a straight-edge, then ran back up the stairs to the sitting room.

"Accio Quick-Quotes Quill!" she shouted as she got started sketching. Over the next few hours she Summoned half a dozen books including one about the engineering of Omnioculars, the history of crystals in glass-making, and Fred's old copy of Advanced Transfiguration from his incomplete seventh year.

By the next night, Hermione had engineered a rough plan to develop a pair of joke-glasses that would reveal the true nature of things – they'd be able to see through anything from transfigured clothing to polyjuice disguises. One night after that she was laying back in the center of the couch wearing her prototype glasses and sorting through a selection of regular and transfigured items.

It worked! The glasses enabled her to see through Fred's transfiguration spell he'd cast on every last pair of her knickers, as well as through a variety of dishes, food items, toys, and even some of their joke store creations.

Hermione hugged herself and laughed out loud. She couldn't wait to show these to Fred! Really the only thing she needed to work out was how to make them cost-effective to mass-produce, as well as maybe work out the aesthetic appeal. They were heavy, large, sparkly black things with psychotic purple and green lenses right now. Not terribly practical. She leaned her head back against the couch and sighed. There was still another week to go before Fred was expected to come home. She'd developed the glasses in three days, surely she could finish everything in the seven more evenings ahead of her. Long, lonely nights alone in her big bed with her crazy sex dreams about a certain red-headed boss of hers…

/…../

"Fred! For Godric's sake, it's four degrees outside! Why do you have your blasted window open?" Fred jerked awake at his twin's annoyed shout. Blimey, it was freezing in here. He sleepily dug out his wand and waved it at his bedroom window, then flicked it towards the ceiling and heated the room before he dared crawl out from under the covers.

"Sorry Georgie, I didn't think you'd mind, being a wizard and all. I like the fresh air when I'm sleeping. Hermione never complains about-" Fred was cut off from his self-defense by George's snort of exasperation.

Fred pulled on a jumper and walked out to the kitchen, where his brother was standing next to the oven, with his arms crossed and a very annoyed look on his face.

"What?" Fred asked.

"Merlin's beard, Fred, do you even realize that all you've done in the past week is talk about Hermione? Hermione this, Hermione that. 'Mione always brings me coffee in the mornings, 'Mione likes this movie best, blah blah blah. Why don't you just go home and declare your undying love for her so I can at least wake up one morning and NOT have to chip ice out of the teapot?"

"WHAT? I'm not in LOVE with Her-" Fred spluttered. George raised up a hand.

"I'm sure in whatever fantasy-world you're living in, you're still a sane and rational human being, but here in the real world, Freddie, you're a goner. Seriously mate, I haven't even seen you smile or heard you laugh in the week you've been here – except for the times you've been talking about Hermione."

"That's not-" Fred protested, heat rising in his face.

"It's entirely true, brother mine. I've never seen you like this before. Honestly, if it wasn't Hermione we were talking about, I'd be a little jealous." George grinned ruefully at his brother, who looked a little green around the gills.

"It's all right, Freddie. You need a girl, mate. And Hermione's a great girl. You already admitted that you're salivating to get in her knickers, no need to be embarrassed about more noble intentions. Godric knows it's only more galleons and glory for us to keep her working for the shop. Like you've said at least half a million times in the past week, she IS bloody brilliant."

"I don't-" Fred tried once more to weakly defend himself, but George crossed the room and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You remember what I said when you got here? If you don't go after her, I will. Or maybe Ronnie will get better and try for her agai-" Fred cut him off by shoving George's hands off his shoulders.

"You've made your point, George," he growled. "Keep Ron away from Friday Harbor. I don't want his deranged arse anywhere near her."

George raised an eyebrow. "And what about me?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You're just trying to piss me off. I might be delusional, but I'm not stupid."

"Well then?"

"Well what?"

"Will you please get the Hell out of here and go woo Ms. Granger before some other bloke snatches her up?"

Fred turned around and walked back to his bedroom, making a rude gesture at his brother as he departed.

"I love you too, mate."

/…../

Hermione was still lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. She'd been idly wondering if Luna really hadn't been kidding all those years talking about wrackspurts when she heard a loud thump in the kitchen, and sat up quickly.

"Who's there?" she called quickly. Her wand was already in her hand.

"Hermione?"

It was Fred! Home after only a week! In the time Hermione made the connection in her mind he was already standing in the doorway, bags in hand and staring at her. Oddly.

"What are you wearing?"

Hermione flushed and whipped off her prototype glasses, but Fred was already crossing the room. He dropped his bags and stood right in front of her, so close they were almost touching. Hermione looked up at his face, the one she'd missed far too much in the last week to be healthy, and then all of a sudden his hands were on her cheeks and his lips were on hers and he was kissing her for all he was worth.

Oh.

Oh!

Fred had pressed his body against hers as his hands moved from her face to her shoulders, down her arms and to her waist. Hermione threw herself into the kiss, wrapping her hands around his neck and hoisting herself up as close as possible.

Yes! This was what she wanted, this was what she'd dreamed of! Fred completely overwhelmed her as his warm, smooth lips slid and tugged and tangled with hers, as his hands roamed back up her body and embedded themselves in her hair. She groaned as his tongue begged entry into her mouth, and he slipped in as he tumbled her backwards onto the couch. Fred settled himself between her legs as she wrapped herself around him, rubbing and shuddering and gasping at the all-new, unfamiliar and yet so perfectly pleasurable sensation that was rapidly stripping her self-control.

Fred broke away from her lips for just a second, and she opened her eyes to see his dark blue ones staring back at her in lust and wonder.

"Mione, I have a bit of a confession to make." Fred whispered in a soft, gravelly voice she'd never heard before. Just the pitch of his voice tugged at and heated her sex.

"Wha?" Was all that she could manage to get out. He'd rested his weight on his elbows and was looking down at her with that look of lust and wonder, pressed up against her _right there_ and talking in _that voice, _and suddenly all of Hermione's considerable intelligence and grasp on the English language went straight out the window.

"I might have a little bit of a crush on you," he said, then pushed his hips forward – OH! – just enough to let her know there was nothing 'little bit' about what he'd just said and done.

"Ohhh. Yes." Think Hermione, come on. "Yea, Freddie, me too, just do that – ye-" And Hermione couldn't think anymore.

To Be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3 Coffee and Muffins

**Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – outside the plot. If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human. **

**P.S. Sorry it's taken me so long to update this. My other story, ARL, has been consuming my mind. But not to worry, I know exactly where this tale is headed – straight to the bedroom. That's right folks, smut alert. No like the smut? Not old enough to get into R-Rated movies? Probably shouldn't read this. **

**ajc**

**Chapter Three: Coffee and Muffins**

Fred knew he'd done the right thing when he'd sat up and pulled Hermione up into a sitting position next to him instead of leaping in to yank her clothes off and sink himself inside her. Godric knew he wanted to, but Fred was more concerned with finding a way to keep Hermione by his side than he was with getting his physical needs tended to. They'd sat staring at each other for just a moment, and then Hermione had broken into a huge, face-splitting smile. Fred returned her smile, and then started laughing. Hermione started giggling, and Fred had wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him as hard as he could.

"Fred! Argh, you're squishing me!" Hermione had squawked, flapping her arms and legs against him. They'd laughed and struggled and rolled around on the couch, him tickling her and her squirming and –

Crrrr-ack! Hermione's prototype glasses broke under the weight of their combined bodies rolling on top of them when they hit the floor.

Now Fred was sitting on the couch inspecting the two halves of her prototype glasses and using one like a monocle to view the transfigured items she'd left out earlier.

Brilliant. The girl was bloody brilliant.

He propped his foot up on the table to view his orange-on-magenta snitch socks Hermione had made him. Hmm. Well damn, the socks looked exactly the same.

"'Mione!"

"Freddie!"

"Your glasses are broken!"

"No kidding, you git, we squashed them. I should have a new pair ready by tomorrow evening though."

"But look!" He handed her the other half of the frames to view his sock. "See, they didn't work on the socks you made me."

"Fred, you idiot, those socks aren't transfigured! I knitted them," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes.

Fred turned slowly to face her. "You knitted me twenty pairs of socks?" he asked cautiously.

"Uh, yes?"

"By hand?"

"Well, I used magic to get the needles moving faster, but I figured out how to knit back in school when I was making all those hats and whatnot for S.P.E.W. It's one of my lesser known talents," Hermione sniffed proudly.

Fred's mind was in chaos. How did one girl manage to achieve the utmost of perfection in his eyes so easily? "Blimey, 'Mione, I think I love you," he said as seriously as he could, but then he leapt in and pinned her to the couch again and started licking her face, completely eradicating any over-thinking on her part. After a few minutes of heated snogging combined with furious giggling, Fred finally reminded himself that he needed to be a gentleman and permit Hermione the chance to go to bed on her own.

Hermione looked at Fred as he escorted her to her bedroom door, just a few paces away from his own. She desperately wanted to continue what they'd started on the sofa, but when it came down to it, she simply wasn't experienced enough in that department to just offer herself up like an after-dinner mint. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him good night and slipped inside her room before she could change her mind.

Fred stared at her closed bedroom door for about five seconds, then retreated to their living room to gather his bags and took them to his own bedroom to unpack. He wasn't in the least bit tired, and of course his libido was in no way ready to passively call it a night, so after a few minutes of trying to ignore the ache in his trousers he set himself off in the direction of a very hot, very pleasurable shower.

Fred rested his head against the cool tile of the shower wall as his body relaxed in post-orgasmic exhaustion. Damn that woman. Georgie was right, he was in love with Hermione Granger.

/…../

The next morning started like any other morning in Friday Harbor for Fred and Hermione. He woke and sniffed happily at the air coming through his open window, and she brought him coffee in bed.

Smiling slyly at her boss – lover – friend… at Fred, Hermione handed over his favorite banana slug patterned coffee mug and stood back to watch his eyes boggle out of his head when he noticed that his coffee was bright pumpkin orange.

"What is this? Ambrosia straight from Weasley Heaven?" Fred asked as he sipped from his mug. It was bliss. Perfection in a cup. A drink that had truly been specifically one hundred percent made for Frederick Gideon Weasley and no one else.

"Do you like it?"

"Merlin, Hermione. It's like a cup of liquid _amortentia_. Are you sure this is just coffee? Because I think I'm in love!" Fred grinned at his roommate/possible new girlfriend – wait a second… Fred took another sip, and looked at Hermione again. "This isn't spiked with anything else is it? You didn't put a love potion or anything in here did you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to Fred to not trust wildly appealing new food offerings. Of course, being a Weasley twin, that distrust was more of a survival strategy than outright paranoia. "No, Freddie, it's not spiked. I just knew you'd like it, so I got it for you."

"Gods, 'Mione, how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

Fred sat his mug down, and took her mug away from her. "Blow me away with your thoughtfulness. And your brilliance. And your sense of humor. And that sweet little arse of yours that better not be wearing my underwear right now!" he said as he pulled her onto his lap and wickedly pushed her nightgown up to sneak a peek.

"Possibly," Hermione quipped as she ducked down to kiss him good morning. The quick flirty peck that she'd planned to bestow immediately morphed to the wildy arousing snogging they'd engaged in last night on the sofa. Fred's mouth was just too perfectly delicious and warm and perfectly suited to her own for Hermione's instincts to do anything but spiral straight out of control and into shag-me-now mode.

Fred contemplated, as his lips tangled with Hermione's, just how far and how fast they should progress their burgeoning relationship this morning – and then Hermione groaned and wriggled against his happy morning erection, and Fred decided that rapid progression was definitely needed. His hands pushed her nightgown up her hips, and then he grasped her there, and wriggled right back at her.

Hermione broke away from Fred's tantalizing mouth to gasp in a breath of air as she felt her core heat up and soak her knickers at the feeling of Fred's lower region pushing so decisively against hers. She looked her roommate in the eyes and groaned out, "Yesssss," as she pushed her thighs down harder against him, rolling her hips a little to increase the friction right –

"Holy Merlin, love, do that again!" Fred hissed out between clenched teeth as Hermione flexed against his straining cock. He clenched her hips even tighter as he push-pulled her against him, bucking his hips in time to her movements.

Hermione wound her hands into Fred's blazing orange locks, which were currently highlighted by the morning sun streaming in through his open window. She gazed at her companion in aching lust and wonder as her instincts took over her lower body's movements. Limited experience or no, this thing that she and Freddie were getting into… right… now… "Oh, my- Oh! Gods that feels so-", well, it felt bloody amazing. Fred was pushing her nightgown up over her belly and up her torso, and before Hermione could even consider whether or not she should be protesting, he'd exposed her breasts to the morning sun.

Fred gazed for a brief moment at the tightened peaks of Hermione's rose-colored nipples, so beautiful and hard with want, and attacked. He dove in and captured one in his mouth while his right hand wrapped around her bottom to drag her body in closer to him. His left hand crept up her body to tease and explore her free breast as Hermione groaned and shuddered against him.

"Freddie! Gods that's so good! Please – OH!" Hermione gasped as her new lover bit her nipple, and her hands clenched tighter into his hair as another wave of lust and fire swept over her. She wailed in protest though, when Fred released her sensitized nipple and rose up to look her in the eye. "Don't stop, Fred, please!" Hermione begged as she pushed her shaking chest flush against his. The skin on skin contact was delicious, and both of them groaned in anticipation of what was, potentially, ahead. She met his eyes and saw her own burning need reflected there, but also there was – what? Determination? Yes, determination, and, adorably, hope. His eyes looked so hopeful and lust crazed that her heart thumped rather loudly in her chest.

Hermione's brain and body rejoiced as she gazed into his eyes, and without hesitation, she accepted the fact that she didn't just have a burning crush on this man, she was top over teakettle in love. With Fred Weasley.

Damn straight she was! Freddie was magnificent in every way; he funny and strong and sexy and wickedly smart. The more she'd gotten to know her boss and roommate over the past few months, the more she came to see that this man - that she was currently dry-humping like an over-sexed teenaged Weasley Men Fanclub member, which honest-to-Godric actually did exist, thanks to Rita Skeeter and _Witch Weekly_ - had been divinely made specifically for her.

"'Mione, as an upstanding Weasley Gentleman I am bound to ask you a few rather delicate questions before I can proceed," Fred interrupted her mental meanderings. He wrapped his arms around her to still her body before he lost his senses entirely.

"Huh?" Hermione asked as her mind and body struggled to catch up with Fred's declaration.

"Hermione," Fred started again as soon as he felt Hermione's attention resting fully on his attempt at conversation. This was far more bloody difficult than it sounded in theory, but Fred's father and older brothers had set him and George down at their fifteenth birthday and made them swear to uphold the Weasley Gentlemen's Code.

A Weasley Gentleman does not sow his oats in every available skirted female that walks by. A Weasley Gentleman does not take what is not given in love – or at least extremely close to love in a fully committed relationship – preferably marriage. A Weasley Gentleman always, always, always, is one hundred percent responsible for the casting of all contraceptive charms. The secondary reason behind this code of sexual ethics was to preserve their family's respectability, but the primary reason was simply because Weasley Gentlemen were extremely fertile.

Case in point: Arthur Weasley's seven children.

Fred cleared his throat, and tried for the third time to get the words out.

"Hermione Granger, I want you to know that I respect and admire you, and that I – obviously – would like our relationship to progress forward, er, physically, as soon as bloody possible. But I have to ask you, have you done this before? And, do you trust me?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side as she processed Fred's words, then blushed furiously as she nodded her head. "Yes, to both, Freddie. And, er, right back at you, you know, with the other part," she said shyly. Moving forward, physically, was her primary agenda for the morning, which seemed rather obvious since her nightgown was still scrunched up into her underarms as her naked breasts pressed wantonly into Fred's collarbones.

Fred blushed as he took in Hermione's subtle extended invitation. She wanted this, all the way. Godric's Ghost, but Freddie was in rather unchartered territory. He'd lost his virginity a couple years ago with his last girlfriend, Alicia Spinnet, but she'd been rather reluctant and guilty about the whole thing, and had broken up with Fred shortly after the second time they'd been intimate. That had been rather disappointing, and Fred had been left wondering if he'd made a huge mistake by getting intimate with his former girlfriend. Then the War had started in earnest and all thoughts of sex had been swept to the side.

But Fred didn't see or feel any reluctance in Hermione. All he saw in her eyes was desire, curiosity, and, adorably, hope. She gazed at him in hopeful wonder, and Fred's love for her grew. "'Mione, will you be mine, then? My girlfriend, that is," Fred asked as his hands drifted up her back to tug at her curls.

Hermione took him by surprise when, instead of blushing, simpering or cooing at him like Alicia had done when he'd asked her, she snorted and rolled her eyes. "Freddie, I think it's rather obvious that I would love to be your girlfriend. I'm not sitting here rubbing myself all over you because I'm covered in poison oak, you know. And why else would I allow a grown man to spend so much time playing with my knickers?" she said with a grin. Then she pulled her fingers down from his hair to cup his jaw, and kissed him softly. "Yes," she whispered against his lips, "I thought you'd never ask." Then she brazenly leaned back and pulled her nightgown over her head, then, before her bravery could abandon her, she grabbed Fred's forearms and dragged them down until his hands were resting on her hips again.

Fred clutched at her knickers and leaned up to capture her lips with his own once more, and tugged her hips into his, rocking into her again in the same movements they'd begun earlier. "Brilliant! In that case…" Fred said, and picked Hermione up and threw her down in the center of his bed. He clambered on top of her giggling form, and shocked her when he immediately ducked in and snagged the edge of her magenta knickers in his fingers and teeth and dragged them down her legs.

Hermione's eyes widened as she watched Fred rip the last bit of her clothing off, then reach for his wand. This was really happening! She knew she only had a few moments to decide whether or not she was ready to engage in actual sex this morning with Fred. Hmm… Then Fred shucked his pajama pants, and Hermione's mind was immediately made up. His lean, toned body rippled with muscle and lust and a charming smattering of freckles that she'd gladly spend the next few weeks counting, hopefully while naked. The sight of his erection, thick and proud and magnificent, actually made her mouth water. Hermione had never found the male anatomy to be physically attractive – functional, yes – but attractive? No. But Fred had a gorgeous cock, and Hermione couldn't wait to get her hands – and other parts – on it.

She sat up and reached for him. Fred groaned as a fog of lust descended over his brain. Hermione Granger had her hands wrapped around his – "Holy Merlin, 'Mione!" He covered her hands with his free one, pausing her curious fingers from teasing him any further. He placed the tip of his wand against her abdomen and whispered the contraceptive charm his father had taught him. It was a customized charm that had been developed several generations ago by a distant Weasley Uncle after the birth of his eleventh child. Once the spell had been uttered and the glow on her belly had subsided, Fred threw his wand down and released her hands to continue exploring him.

"Freddie?" Hermione whispered in a breathy voice as she slipped her fingers up and down on his velvety length. She sat sprawled on his bed in front of him, legs open, knees bent, ready to- Fred suddenly leaned in and pressed her backwards into the mattress. He loomed over her and delicately kissed her pretty pink mouth.

"Yes, 'Mione?" he asked as he settled his weight on top of her. They both shuddered at the intimacy of the full body contact, and Hermione moaned as Fred moved his hips, just so, to settle his glorious erection against her heat.

"Knock knock!" a voice called from the base of the stairwell. Hermione and Fred's heads snapped up and their eyes widened in horror as they heard the distinctive skipping step of Sunny tripping up the stairs into their flat. Fred scrambled up and grabbed for his pajama bottoms, and Hermione ducked into her nightgown just as Sunny popped her head into Fred's bedroom doorway.

"Good morning Fred and Hermione! I brought you some muffins that Rick made this morning! Oh my, it smells like sex in here! Did I interrupt? Oh dear, I did, didn't I?" Sunflower sang cheerily as she held out a small basket of cranberry pumpkin muffins.

Hermione flushed and stammered a good morning to her co-worker, and Fred dragged his hands down his face in amused frustration as he willed his erection to take a hike. "Hey there, Sunflower," he groaned through his fingers. Then he opened his eyes and smiled ruefully at his employee. "Thank you for the muffins. That was very thoughtful," he continued.

Hermione stood up off the bed then, and reached out for the basket. "These will be perfect with our coffee, thank you Sunny," she said as she picked up her coffee mug and directed their friend out towards the kitchen.

Fred heard Hermione ask Sunny if she'd like to try the new pumpkin coffee flavor she'd picked up last week, and he pulled a clean t-shirt out of his bureau as he heard Sunny agree. Within a few more minutes, the three of them sat at the kitchen table, chatting about the success of Sunny's pastel puffs and Hermione's new prototype glasses over muffins and coffee.

Sunny finished her coffee and popped out of her chair to rinse her mug in the sink. "Rick and I are taking Poppy camping down at Watmough Bay on Lopez Island tonight. We wanted to see if you two would like to join us. It's got a gorgeous view of Mt. Baker on the mainland, and we're bringing hot dogs and marshmallows for the fire."

Fred looked at Hermione, who nodded eagerly. "We'd love to, Sunny. Thank you. What time are you lot taking the ferry over?"

/…../

Hermione stood at the kitchen sink, washing mugs and plates as Fred escorted Sunny downstairs and outside. They were going to meet up with Sunny and her family in a mere three hours at the ferry terminal. In the meantime, there was packing and shopping to get done, not to mention the business notes she needed to go over with Fred before the shop opened again on Tuesday morning. There was simply no time now to continue what they'd so eagerly started back in his bedroom.

Hermione wondered to herself if it was possible to die of unfulfilled sexual agony.

"'Mione?"

Hermione whipped around to see the object of her unfulfilled lust standing in the kitchen doorway. Fred's hair was still tousled from sleep and from their morning antics, and his pajama pants hung a tad too low on his hips to be entirely appropriate. Hermione hissed in a breath of longing and tried to arrange her thoughts in a manner that would prevent her from stripping out her nightgown and wrestling Fred down onto the table top.

"Fred?" she squeaked, then coughed to clear her throat.

Fred grinned wolfishly at his new girlfriend, and held up two fingers. "Your choice, love. Now, or later? Red blooded male that I am, I personally vote for both. But honestly I don't think we've got time for now. However, I aim to please, and have no problem accommodating you either way."

Hermione nodded mutely and weighed her options as she watched Fred prowl across the room towards her. Decisions, decisions… Fred stopped directly in front of her, and Hermione pressed herself backwards against the counter. Sweet Circe, when did he get so tall?

"Now! No, you're right, we don't have time… Um, later? No, both. I mean, no, wait." Hermione pushed her hands against Fred's chest to keep him from coming any closer. "Freddie, I – well, I don't have enough experience with this sort of thing to make a professional decision. So, in order to make the most of this, do you mind if we wait?" Hermione bit her lip as she looked up at her boss – lover – boyfriend… at Fred, and then smiled shyly. "I hope you don't mind?" she asked.

Fred smirked down at his edible little assistant. "Not at all, 'Mione. I'd rather you get the full opportunity to savor the Fred Weasley Experience, which might not be so easy if I just propped you up on the counter and shagged you against the dish rack."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow and whistled appreciatively. "The Fred Weasley Experience? Sounds like quite the event. Should I pack fireworks and pom-poms?"

"Absolutely. Well, actually I have no idea. I'm being completely blasé about this to hide the fact that I have very little experience myself and am incredibly nervous about my ability to perform adequately." Fred said airily as he stepped to the side to lean against the counter next to her.

Hermione laughed in relief. Fred grinned at her mirth, then knocked his shoulder into hers playfully. "Come on, you lazy girl. We've got work to do before we go, eh?"

To Be Continued.


End file.
